Through my eyes: Ron Weasley and the Sorcerer's Stone
By GoroGoroGuy
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry potter books or movie, characters or anything that involves HP. (Good thing too, 'cause if I did, it wouldn't be as good as it is now.) J.K. Rowling does. But I do own this fic. Comprendo?
Note: This chapter happens the day after Harry is delivered to the Dursleys, when the news of You-know-who's demise are confirmed.
Another note: I stress originality. If you know that this plot or any of my other plots that I've done have been used, contact me at my E-mail. Thank you.
Chapter one: Enter the Weasleys
Early one summer morning at Ottery St. Catchpole, the day began as usual. People got up to go to their normal jobs, and the village bustled with the normal, noisy chattering of people doing errands and going to work.
Five miles away, however, there was a house that was certainly anything but normal. The house appeared to be an old concrete pigpen with several stories added on, most of which looked as though it could topple at any second. Four or five chimneys were scattered here and there on the roof, and a lopsided sign that said The Burrow was resting near the front entrance, stuck in the dry dirt. A few chickens were pecking at the ground, searching for feed, and a large, rusty old cauldron and jumble of boots lay at the front door. The people who lived in it were far from an ordinary family. As a matter of fact, they were wizards.
The mother's name was Molly Weasley, a short, plump woman that looked as though she was in her late thirties or early forties, with a kind face and flaming red hair, and was currently was busying herself with a shovel, digging a small hole in the garden to plant a rosebush, which lay at her side. She wore a flowered apron that was slightly dirty, along with a large turquoise cloak. A small, grayish thing that resembled a potato with arms and legs scurried by, apparently keen not to be noticed. The short woman turned around and grabbed it easily, swung it around by its feet and chucked it and least forty feet over the garden fence.
She planted the bush after a few more minutes. She quickly jogged over to the front door, pulled a small, thin piece of wood, a wand, from the front pocket of her apron and tapped the doorknob, muttered something, and the door swung open.
Walking into the house, which was just as dilapidated-looking as the outside, Mrs. Weasley pulled out some pots and pans from a cupboard and placed them on the counter. She waved the same piece of wood she had used on the door, and a thin, bluish crème-like liquid came out of it in a long stream, landing in a large pot on the counter.
"ARTHUR! WAKE UP! Breakfast is ready!" She yelled, a hint of frustration in her voice.
A few seconds later, a thin man, slightly bald with red hair appeared out of nowhere with a small 'pop', looking very tired. He was Mrs. Weasley's husband, Arthur Weasley.
"I was awake you know, Molly," he said, with a tone of annoyance in his voice. "You didn't have to scream."
"I usually have to, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley impatiently, as she mixed the crème with a fine, white powder in the pot. "You've been oversleeping far too much."
Mr. Weasley groaned. "You know it's all the extra work I've had to do, Molly. With the recent killings that group of Muggles noticed in London…"
He glanced lazily at her, apparently still half-asleep. "Has the paper come yet?" he asked.
"No idea. I hope the post owl didn't get lost again," said Mrs. Weasley. She glanced out the window near the counter casually, as if expecting to see something. "That can happen sometimes."
"Well, they usually don't, but this could be that one time…" Mr. Weasley said sleepily. "Should I go wake the kids, or will you scream at them too?"
Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes in frustration. "No, Arthur. Go get Bill and Charlie. Let Percy, Fred, George and Ron sleep in a bit. They're young."
Mr. Weasley got up and slouched up the steps to the next floor, muttering, "They're probably all awake, considering how loud you yelled."
Mrs. Weasley took a ladle out of a drawer and spooned the creamy mixture, now slightly thicker, into three bowls. Behind her, a large tawny owl carrying a newspaper flew up to the window and tapped on it. Mrs. Weasley swung around almost at once and opened the window. The owl flew in, dropping the newspaper on the table and perched on one of the chairs, hooting softly. Mrs. Weasley opened another drawer and searched around in it, finally pulling out three small bronze coins. She walked over to a jar near the window, opened it and pulled out a few small pellets. Then she walked over to the owl, which was preening its feathers, and put the coins in a pouch tied to its leg. She fed it some of the pellets, and it flew out the window. Molly closed the window and brought the bowls to the table.
A few seconds later, two boys, each with red hair exactly like their mother's, ran downstairs, followed by their father. All three of them sat down at the table, the younger one needed his father to help him onto his chair.
Mr. Weasley scanned the paper's headlines, and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets.
"M-m-Molly! It's true! He's really gone!" he shouted excitedly. Mrs. Weasley, who was putting away the pots, hurried over at once.
"Who's gone, Arthur? She said, with a clear tone of anxiousness.
Arthur showed her the paper. "It's You-know-who! The rumors were true about his demise! He pointed at the top headline, which said in large, scarlet letters:
You-know-who gone at last: Millions worldwide rejoice
Yesterday, and today as well, Ministry wizards are flocking to the scene of what appears to have been the final murder of You-know-who, the most merciless and terrible dark wizard to come into power in nearly a century. Evidence shows that indeed, he did finally lose his power, but some Aurors still believe that he is still alive somewhere in the world. Auror squads have been sent out to comb the neighboring countries for any sign of the now-powerless dark lord.
Members of the magical community who got the news earlier have been sending thousands of owls to relatives and friends in other countries, creating a sea of owls in the sky every few hours, even above muggle civilizations. Feasts and parties have been springing up like weeds in a garden, and celebrations have been planned all over the countryside. However, the Ministry is cautioning wizarding folk to be careful during these celebrations, lest the muggles notice anything is amiss. Arnold Peasegood, current head of the Accidental Magical Reversal Squad (The AMRS, also known as Obliviators) said that: "Even if You-know-who is really gone, we must still be as careful as always to not attract the attention of muggles. Imagine if the day You-know-who had gone was the day the muggles found out about wizards. It would be a disaster. We have, however, sent out teams of Obliviators to celebrations to help, er, keep down the noise a bit." At that time he waded through the crowd of reporters, all eager to know anything they could about the events, and went off to a "meeting," and was unable to comment further.
However, there is a sad part to this tale of happiness. The Potters, who were rumored to be the next victims on He-who-must-not-be-named's hit list, were found dead at the scene of his demise. But in only a few seconds, an unusual thing was discovered. The youngest Potter, one-year-old Harry, was found to be alive and okay, besides the presence of a mysterious, lightning bolt-shaped cut on his forehead. After being examined by his father's best friend, Sirius Black, who was one of the first to make it to the scene, he was moved from the wreckage by groundskeeper of Hogwarts, Ruebus Hagrid. He has been placed in the care of his only living relations, a small Muggle family named the Dursleys, who have been instructed to tell him everything when he is older and able to understand that he became one of the most famous wizards in the world before he could even talk or walk.
Bill, Charlie, and Percy glanced at the paper. They couldn't read very well, but they could tell this was big news from their parents' expressions.
"What's going on?" asked Percy curiously, peering over his mother's shoulder. Mrs. Weasley looked at him and told him what the paper had said. Percy's expression changed from interested to a mix of happiness and confusion.
"Who's You-know-who?" He asked. Bill leaned over and said, "He's a bad guy. A very, very bad guy. He's killed lots and lots of people, too. And he was never caught."
Percy laughed. "Nobody could ever get away from dad." Bill gave him a playful punch in the arm. "Idolizing dad? Next thing you know you'll be the next prefect in the family," he said with a smirk. Percy frowned at his brother. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
Bill hopped off his chair and shoved Percy lightly. "I'm just joking," he said, walking over to his parents.
"Not fighting, I hope, are you Bill?" Said Mr. Weasley.
"No, Dad…"
Mr. Weasley smiled. "I think I'll go to work now, before the kids tear down the house." He said. "There'll probably be a party of some sort at the office, now that he's finally gone. I won't have to work as long now, so I'll likely be home earlier than normal." He said to Mrs. Weasley. He kissed her quickly the cheek and walked a few feet away before vanishing with a small "pop."
Mrs. Weasley sighed and cleaned up the table as the kids went running up the stairs. She glanced out the window again and said to herself, "Sad, though, that the Potters couldn't be here to see this day. I hope their son will be okay." She waved her wand and the dishes leapt off the table and into the sink where they began to wash themselves. Little did she realize that one day her son, Ron, would be one of the most influential people in Harry's, and many other people's lives too.
End Chapter one
Ending credits: I had a blast writing this chapter. However, the second chapter of all my other fics usually is not as good as the others, but we'll just see how it goes. Flames will be used to heat my room, but use constructive criticism in your reviews because this is my first HP fic. ONWARD! This is the great GoroGoroGuy, signing off!
-GoroGoroGuy-
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All Harry Potter characters and related things are © J.K. Rowling. This fic is © GoroGoroGuy. (Not really, but don't MST this or copy any part of it without my permission. Okay?)
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